Playing That Age Thing to the Hilt
Because it worked the last time
People ask me all the time, “What’s it like to be old?” Well, they don’t actually say it out loud, but the question is there, in their gaze — it’s either concern or horror, I don’t know, my eyes aren’t that good anymore.
It’s in their voices — loud, of course, and dimply-cheeked sweet. (Think Kindergarten teacher.)
It’s in their stance — ready either to grab me if I fall or run if I should wobble in their direction.
Oh, yeah, I can tell.
So since it seems to be a topic now, I’ll tell you what it’s like to be old. (I should warn you that part of my effort here is pure greed. The last time I wrote about being old on Medium it became such a runaway hit I’ve made over $28 in lifetime earnings. I know you think $28 isn’t so great, but in 1937, the year I was born, it would have fed our little family of three for an entire month.)
Anyway, It’s like this:
I walk with a cane but not just any old cane. My cane is covered in peacock feathers. They’re peacock feathers stamped onto plastic because real peacock feathers would probably make me sneeze, but if I’m not pretending to be all rickety in order to get away with moving to the front of the line, I’m posing with it, holding it at an angle…
